The Quest.

“…hello young man, what do you think you’re doing?” “How do you mean Sir?” Tunde probed his boss. “ I got your resignation letter this morning, and I kind of wonder what the hell is wrong with you. I mean…” Tunde’s boss sounded piqued. “…Sir, I wish I could explain this better, but I can’t seem to find the right word to do so. But trust me, I’ve counted the cost, and…” “young man…” Tunde’s boss cuts in “… I really think we shouldn’t be discussing this. You still have a month to go, so I’ll see you then. In the mean time, let me have a report on the story you are doing” “okay Sir.” Tunde said closing the door behind him.

The story that afternoon was not the news on the street, but the news in the newsroom. Tunde is one of their few die-hard journalist, so everybody was taken aback that he’s leaving them in a month time.

Later that night…

Tunde’s dad was busy at the living room with a copy of the punch line newspaper, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He whiled away time awaiting Tunde’s arrival. He was already dozing off when Tunde came in…

“Dad, why don’t you go into your bedroom…” “oh, you are back. I’m actually waiting for you, we need to talk.” “So what is it all about?” Tunde said taking his seat beside the old man. “It’s about your job. I learnt you are quitting…” the old man waited for response but it wasn’t coming. “You wouldn’t talk to me. You know what? I don’t seem to be getting this right; I mean…you are one of the best in this job, and what more, the job is quite rewarding. Take a good look at what you’ve achieved in just 2 years on the job!” “that is it dad. There you go again…” Tunde snapped. “This is fake, this is you, this isn’t me! Does it not bother you that I’ve lived all my live living your ambition? You’ve never for once asked what I wanted for my-se-l-f. I think I hate it here…” Tunde snarled as his dad watched him disappear into the staircase. The night was so quiet in the house as even the cockroaches around could feel the mood.

A month later…

The last couple of weeks has been really eventful; hopes are high everywhere: Tunde’s boss expects a change of decision, ditto for hid dad and colleagues. Giving more hope to their hope was another memorable event; Tunde has just picked up an award - Best Reporter, Investigative Journalism - in the Professor Lambert’s annual award for journalism excellence. No surprise, he was thoroughly shaped by his dad, a doyen of journalism. To them all, they thought this new success will influence his final stance.

It’s time for an in-house party in honour of Tunde’s achievement. The hall was filled to the last chair, with everybody awaiting Tunde’s speech, and then he mounted the podium…

“…first of all, I’d like to thank God. It’s all about Him. He made this possible. Also, I’d like to dedicate this award to my dad, it’s his award…” the audience thunders a clap as many turned to steal a look at Tunde’s dad, all wearing a smashing smile…

“…lastly, I’d like to dedicate this award to my colleagues, and my boss. You all made this possible. It’s my parting gift to you…” there was a sudden drop in the mood of all members of the audience. It finally dawn on them Tunde was serious. “…in the past one month I’ve had sleepless night trying to convince myself I want to do this. I can’t seem to find the right word to explain my decision to you all, but I can assure you this is good for me. While I take my leave, I implore you to be true to your self. Live your dream, your purpose, and not another man’s ambition ‘cos the pains of your dream soothes more than the joy of your fantasy. I love you all!”

Tunde obviously had dropped something as the hall was dead silence. His boss sounded quite incoherent in his closing remark. Tunde spent the next 10 minutes exchanging hug with an army of admirers. That was his last day at punch line communications.

Two weeks later…

It was 6:45pm in  Ikot Afanga, and the sky was already closing it’s face. The bees buzzed lazily around, while a few crickets began tuning up for their evening of song. Tunde’s bus stopped in front of Ette’s  store, the head of the youths in the community. Almost everybody turned around to see who will come out of the bus parked in front of Ette’s store; they were all shell shocked at what they saw, the youngest Corper to ever served in their village. While some were struggling to carry Tunde’s bag, some were struggling to carry him like victorious warrior. A few others who didn’t know him tried stealing a look as he took his seat beside the ludo board, the usual evening ritual at Ette’s shop. Back to base; Tunde spent some 10 months here 3 years ago doing his youth service. The village still hasn’t change; no electricity, no good road, no drinkable water, soldiers of biting insect, name any drawbacks. No regret anyway, this the new life Tunde would settle for.

“Ette, na wa o. So una still dey suffer like this for this village…” Tunde questioned as he tried to ward off mosquitoes from his delicate skin. “Corper, na so o. Abi wetin we go do? Man no die, man no rotten…” “wetin una go do ?” Tunde sounded amused, but continued his bantering… “where that una shameless man?” “which one?” Ette asked. “The one wey be deputy speaker for house of assembly; the man no fit do anything for this community?” “that one… no mind that one abeg…” Ette filled Tunde in on their present predicament in the village. They spent almost all the night catching up on old times. Tomorrow is Monday, struggle continues…

Monday morning at CSS, Ikot Afanga…

It’s another Monday morning, and the only spectacle usually on display in the community is the students’ exuberance. Lateness and indiscipline has been an issue of concern the school authority, and the community itself. Tunde decided to come see whether things has changed. his bike stopped in front of the school gate at about 9:15am, and students still roam the street, but immediately they saw Tunde they all took to their heels. Tunde came in company of Ette. Though the students are untouchables to their teachers, but Tunde was a pain in their butt during his service days. While the teachers were all wondering what’s chasing the running students, the students in the classes came out in droves to welcome their cane-wielding Corper. The Principal was not left out as she came out to see who’s responsible for the rowdiness that suddenly engulfed her school, and she was shocked to see Tunde who by now was moving towards her office to exchange pleasantries…

“Nma, emesiere - o…” “emesiere - nde…Tunde!” the principal curdled Tunde as they both exchanged pleasantries in Ibibio language… “so you never forget our language…go back to your class, stupid children…” the principal barked at the students as she led Tunde to the staff room. The school’s activities was paralysed that morning as the teaching staff spent the next one hour with Tunde in meeting. Tunde effortlessly explained his mission to them…

“…like I use to say then that I’d be back here one day, I’m back now; and I need your support to be able to finish my task within a year. Now, this is coming to you at no cost, I mean you wouldn’t have to pay me for this. It’s my own little contribution to the future of this community…” at the end of the meeting, the school appointed Tunde as the head of Corper’s service department, a post hitherto held by a teacher. He spent the break time with the students before leaving for his house. It was a busy day indeed for Tunde.

The next six month…

Armed with his laptop, internet modem, camcorder, bicycle, Ette, and two Corper’s Cds group namely MDGs and PETs, Tunde went half way with his mission in just six months. Starting from shooting a documentary film on the community, to writing proposals on the initiation and execution of fundamental projects in the community, Tunde never rested a bit. He became a major influence on the Corps members serving in the entire local government by providing them with ideas, and engineering their Cds projects to suit the fundamental needs of their host community. At the passing-out-parade of the batch B Corps members for that year, all the state award winners came from Tunde’s local government. This proved a big break for Tunde.

Dinner party, Government house…

The banquet hall was appreciably crowded, with all sorts of eatables on display. It’s the dinner in honour of state award winners, and the one man that’s wanted everywhere - Tunde. There were giggles and cackles everywhere in the hall as people engaged one another in tête-à-tête; soon the commissioner for youth, sports, and development interrupted the flow…

“So ladies and gentlemen, join me as we toast… to us, to them, and to our young man here…” the commissioner said pointing at Tunde. Soon, the governor himself started…

“You see, my boy, let me start by saying a big thank you to you. I must say I acknowledge and appreciate what you’ve been doing around here. And this will surprise you; I do get all the petitions and proposals you’ve been sending to my office, and while it seems I’m not bothered, I’ve actually been working on them. Let me give you a good news, we have signed contracts for the delivery of 15 primary health care centres, 200 borehole projects, rehabilitation of schools across the local government, and most importantly, the construction of all the access roads in in your local government. When I say signed, I mean signed and sealed, to be delivered in 8 months…” there was a thunderous applause in the hall as everybody gave kudos to the governor… “…and sorry, my governor forgot to add this: the electrification project has also been signed…” there was another thunderous applause for the governor. The night ended on a high note for everybody. For Tunde, it was the most fulfilling moment of his life, having his efforts rewarded in this manner; it doesn’t always come this easy. The state award winners were all given automatic employment, their first task being to assist Tunde in monitoring the delivery of the various projects awarded. Ikot Afanga was a bee hive of activities for the next 7 months. The students did crash job here and there, petty traders selling stuffs here and there, and the village youths all got one permanent job or the other at the various construction sites. Hmn… the dream of a man.

Somewhere in Lagos…

Mr and Mrs Olusola had just finished at the dinning when the network news started. Mr Olusola headed for the living room to listen…

“Good evening viewers, my name is Fatimah Abass Fatimah. Tonight on news at nine…” Mr Olusola watched on with keen interest as the news caster dolled out the news one after the other until it got to an item…

“Mama Tunde, come come come…” Mrs Olusola dashed to the living room to see what the interest is all about.

“… a 27 years old young man received national honour…” Tunde was one of the national award recipients for the year. He was nominated by the Akwa-Ibom state government for his efforts. The news caster rounded off…

“…he dedicated the award to his mother whom he said has always encouraged him to live his live to…” “…mo so ri re o, eleda mi mo dupe o…” Mrs Olusola didn’t bother to finish the news before she started dancing round the living room. Mr Olusola reconciled with his son that night over the phone, while both parent went to bed proud of their son. Hmn… how success attracts friends.

The End

I finished this story on the 18^th of March, 2011, but it started making more meaning to me after I had a life-threatening accident on the 20^th of March, 2011. One thing I said when I was going down was: “God, is this how I died,” and He said: ”No son, this is how I renewed your life and re-established your destiny.” Trust me, I’d have died a day to my birthday. This made me remember a sentiment I’ve always shared concerning birthday celebration; “it’s never a time for one to lose his head celebrating; it’s a time to ask the golden question: “why did God gave me another shot at life?” I’ve always reflected on the outgoing year to see whether I’ve only lived my ambition, or lived God’s purpose for my creation. Since I couldn’t parcel cakes and drinks across to you all, this is my birthday gift to you all.

Remember, every birthday you celebrate is another shot at life. God is only giving you another chance to live more conscious. I believe in you to fulfil destiny.

With Love,

Alamu Samson.

I still do...

On a hot afternoon, somewhere in Ikot Udo’bobo, Ukanafun local government, Akwa-Ibom…

“This is what I believe, and this we can make happen if only you’ll join me in believing. Thank you.”

Labake wrapped up her emotional speech and made for her sit, while a deafening applause from the audience rented the air.

In a little while, the inspired and rowdy audience took to the street in their twos and threes, still discussing Labake’s life changing seminar.

 Labake was about stopping a bike man heading towards her route when a messenger dashed towards her…”Corpra, corpra, corpra”, “Itoro, how many times will I tell you it is  pronounced corper, and not corpra?” Labake yelled. “Sorry” Itoro said, panting. “Okay, what do you want?” Labake quizzed; “Madam bin dey call you”… “Okay, I’ll join her now.” Labake turned to the okada man and told him to leave. Few minutes later, Labake was inside the Matron’s office… “Good afternoon Ma, Itoro said…” “Oh, yes I sent her truly. You had a wonderful and compelling delivery you know! I wish you could stay with us after your passing out parade tomorrow, or what do you think Labake?” “Ma… Ma,” Labake stuttered. “Don’t worry, I already know your answer, I was just teasing you. Anyway, even though I fear what will become the fate of this project, I can’t but pray that God be with you as you travel back home tomorrow. But truly,we will  miss you”, Matron said in an emotion laden voice. She went blank and did not notice when Labake left her office…

The following evening @ car park, Millverton, Aba…

“Lagos, Lagos, Lagos… Onitsha, Onitsha…” a cacophony of sound rented the atmosphere as various conductor lobbied for passengers. One of them was Labake, trailed by the guy who wheeled her luggage. “Ajuwaya! Where you dey go?” a conductor beckoned, “Lagos” Labake responded. At exactly 5:45pm, they were set for the journey…

                                                                                                                     

2:15am @ Ojota, Lagos…

“Abeg, e remain one bag o”, Labake charged the conductor. Soon afterwards, everybody started chattering taxi to their destination within Lagos, while Labake waited for the arrival of Demilade; “naughty boy” she soliloquized. Growing more impatient, Labake reached for her phone again. As she awaits the connection from the service provider, a car flashed her in the face. She was almost cursing when she spotted Demilade in the car… “Hahahahahahahah…” she screamed as Demilade alight from the car, welcoming her with a warm and soothing hug. “Welcome aunty Labake”, the driver greeted. It was a happy re-union. The road was so free, so in no time they were at home. It was a hug, patting, peck and kiss galore as everybody scrambled to have a feel of Labake. Though it was midnight, the planned party would still go ahead. In 30 minutes, Labake was out of the bathroom in her night wear, while her mum and sisters hurriedly fixed up the dinning. The dinning gist was getting more interesting… “Dad!”, “I’m serious Labake. Thank God you are back with the certificate minus Akpan!” Labake’s father said jokingly, while the rest laughed their ribs off. It was a long night in their house. Two days later, the atmosphere was back to normal. Labake was no longer a new bride.

A year later…

Labake now works with SFH. One day she returned from office only to discover something new, “Mum! Who placed a letter on my bedside locker?” “Oh! I forgot to tell you, it was your dad. It’s from Akwa-Ibom.” “Akwa what!” Labake exclaimed as she motioned towards her mum in the kitchen. She opened it, and to her surprise, it was an invitation letter engineered by the Matron. A new government is in place, and on recommendation, they had wanted some former Corps members who showed promise to come execute a project for them. Obvious in the body of the letter, she wasn’t the only one invited for the project. The offer was actually mouth watering that she did not even think twice, “Mum, I’ll go for it!” Labake exclaimed. Well, let your father return so we can discuss this as a family.” “Mum! Dad wouldn’t stop me, will he?” “I don’t know…” her mother said, making her way to the dinning. Labake lost her calm as she awaits her father’s arrival. Soon, the family was at the dinning. They discussed Labake’s invitation through the dinner. She was more than happy when her father consented… “Anyway, you can go. But this time around I wouldn’t mind an Akpan.” “Dad!” Labake sounded embarrassed as the dinning quaked at her sibling’s funny response. There has been an argument in the house of recent, on Labake’s inability to tie down a man for marriage. She used the remaining days in the week to pack her bag. Sooner than expected, Labake was out of Lagos already.

@the airport, Akwa-Ibom…

Labake travelled aboard unique airline. The airport still wears a Heathrow look as it was not up to a year yet that it was commissioned. In no time, almost every passenger had gone. Labake was still gazing around when she felt a hand on her back. She turned around only to see Mrs. Sunday Uwem, her dear Matron… “Mummy!” Labake shouted as she couldn’t believe her eyes… “My daughter, I told you! I said you’ll be back here very soon. Shey you now see that am right?” Labake was so filled with joy that all she could do was walk into Matron’s arms. It was a warm and reflective hug. The two of them reflected on the past, while their car breezed through the beautiful roads of Uyo. Her hotel accommodation was superb, a 5 star one it was. Indeed, it was a home coming!

10am, January 11, 2010 @ the conference center…

It was the project briefing morning and almost everybody was already seated: the commissioner for health, members of the “imported” project team, of course Labake inclusive. The only exception was the First Lady of the State, Commissioner for Women Affairs and Kunle Smith, the leader of the project team. He had a flight hitch, which delayed his arrival. As their car halted at the conference center, one of the protocol officers quickly made his way to the briefing hall to signal their arrival to the commissioner for health. As the protocol officer put his mouth to the commissioner’s ear, he sprang up from his seat…”Ladies and Gentlemen, I was just told that Her Excellency and her team are here…” in a student-like manner, everyone re-adjusted their sitting posture. In 5 minutes they were in session already. From her countenance, it was obvious Labake couldn’t comport herself any longer from the moment she saw Kunle Smith enter the hall. The session lasted for hours, but all through it, the first lady and the matron never missed the cue. Kunle and Labake sounded so incoherent when it was their turn to assess and comment on the project blueprint. They however both had their faces saved by the First Lady, who made excuse for Kunle. At exactly 3:47pm, Kunle was called upon to close the briefing…”this has always been our passion. So, on behalf of the entire project team I say, Akwa-Ibom be our guest.” The inspiring speech no doubt, overshadowed his earlier goof, as a thunderous applause rented the hall. In quick succession, the cars present at the venue made their way to the team lodge; a befitting accommodation provided by the state government.

7pm, January 11, 2010 @ Kunle’s flat…

“Psooopsooo… psooopsooo…”  Kunle whistled across the living room as he took the last spoon of meat meal in his plate. Suddenly, his door bell rang…”grang grang…” “Yeah! Who there?” Kunle sounded Rastafarian. The sound of the music that rented his apartment however did not let him hear who’s at the door. As Kunle opened the door, he almost slammed it as he saw Labake, but she hurriedly entered though not violently. As if on impulse, Labake went down on her knees sobbing…”Kunle, I’m sorry, am truly sorry.” “Oh! Save me. I don’t need your…” Kunle cuts as Mariam entered the living room from the kitchen. “Oh ho ooo… what do we have here, a movie scene?” Mariam said sarcastically. “Oh, sorry I don’t wanna be a part of this potter’s house scene. Kunle please, don’t forget to copy me the file, see you tomorrow!” Mariam said closing the door behind her. “Labake leave, please leave my apartment right away” “Kunle hear me out, I said am sorry. I can explain…” “Explain what?” now an emotional outburst… “Explain what? Explain how you made a mess of my final year on campus? Explain why you jilted me two weeks to my final exams without any reason. Go on! Go on and explain!” The floor beneath Labake was wet from her tears already, yet she sobs still. Kunle continued unbolting his emotions… “No! Go ahead! Explain why it was needed that I lose my 2:1 to our relationship; explain how you ended up with Kelvin my spiritual brother. I lost interest in life because of that. I lost my creativity, my peace, joy, name it!  Explain why I deserved the 3 years emotional wreck I’ve suffered” “Oh no, Labake you are a disgrace to womanhood, a disappointment to God. I hate you!!!” Kunle screamed. Labake was already a shadow of herself. She has sobbed her soul dry, and wept her spirit weak. The next 2 hours was a mixture of emotional songs and talk. It was a serendipitous evening.

June 24, 2010 @ Obudu ranch resort…

Throughout the past 4 months, Kunle had maintained a very cold attitude towards Labake. Now is the time for the project team to have their first, but short, break. One week it is, and the famous Obudu ranch resort is the destination. Everybody definitely has something up their sleeves, as they were all determined to enjoy every moment of their break. The first night wasn’t that loaded as it was a dj night, all sort of slow music rented the air all through the night. Everybody has been busy discussing Kunle and Mariam, both sitting at particular corner. They’ve been too noticeable in the last four months. “I know that he loves me ‘cos he told me so…” Destiny Child’s Brown Eyes rented the air, suddenly Mariam noted and called his attention “Kunle, look at Labake, she’s right over there” she pointed towards Labake’s direction. “Go boy, go for the kill!” A fully charged Kunle stood up and motioned towards Labake’s table where she sat alone. “Can I?” Kunle pointed at the chair. “Eh, Kunle! Sure you can” an excited Labake offered a chair. “Labake, I’ll be straight. I know it’s been tough going down this road. I know we’ve both had our share of the offerings of this disappointment. But you know what; I had expected this all along. I believe this was going to happen. This is fate.  I think am through, crying over you. All I wanna do now is smile and embrace the future” now in a subtle voice, Kunle suddenly knelt down and said “Labake… will you marry me?” understanding her unspoken fear, Kunle looked towards the direction of Mariam and said “oh, Mariam? Never mind. She’s just a friend, a good one though. She’s been my… call it emotional therapist. We both had our youth service here 3 years ago, and she’s happy about this. So, I’ll say it again, Labake will you marry me?” “Yes! Yes! Yes! I will. I’ll marry you. They both clung to each other in a hug battle, while Mariam smiled her heart out at the other end.

                                                                                                         

Believe me; I had us in mind when I was writing this. More often than not, the offering of our sojourn here on earth draws tears from our eyes, and lamentations from our spirit and soul. They make us feel damned. They scare courage out of us. But then, I’ve learn by experience, that the bravest of all men are those who believed in the flawlessness of providence, and as such, they fought the battle head long. Even when it seems they were going down, they kept their heads up. One thing stood them out I discovered: knowledge-inspired focus. With it, we’ll accept the offerings of our sojourn, and never deny ourselves of the joy of life, ‘cos in the end, Providence will have its way. “It is not a crime to go down, but it is to stay down.”

With love,

Alamu Samson.